Where it all began

Fifty years ago, on a warm July day, I got off the school bus between Tresillian and Truck Hill. The spot I had in mind to fish had occupied a space in my mind for several weeks, a distraction from everything I was supposed to be thinking about. A big pool on the small Tresillian River; I imagined Neil Armstrong would have been able to see it from the moon just five years earlier, an anniversary that had been playing in the news all week. I could certainly see the pool from the bus window, calling me every day on the way home.  I had been waiting for the right weapon and earlier in the day had played truant to spend my pocket money in John Langdon’s, the local Truro fishing tackle shop, to buy five hooks in a paper bag and a Peter Ross fly; my first ever fly. No one ever fished this part of the Tresillian. Like so many small trout streams, it was too remote for kids, too small for grownups.

I had no idea how to fish the Peter Ross, but like that pool, the fly had been calling to me through the glass-topped shop counter as it nestled with its facsimiles in a felt-lined wooden box, whose edges were worn by a thousand rough hands. I had no real fishing mentor, just a few older boys from school and the village who I used to fish with, but none who would prefer to fish than do anything else, none who could be relied on for every adventure. I’d learnt that drifting an unweighted bait into a stream current could be deadly, likewise flicking an ABU Droppen (spoon spinner) into a pool and working it back across the current. But what to do with this tiny piece of elegant craft? I had absolutely no idea. I got off the bus, crossed the bridge on the farm track and ducked over the fence to walk to the pool. So green and lush, so quiet. Crystal water, afternoon filtered sunlight, a clear current line from the head of the pool right into a deep slow section. I was using a small spinning rod, so I just tied on the fly and flicked it out into the current to drift down and across the pool. I caught a fish on the first cast. A one foot brown trout, easily the biggest I’d ever caught from a stream where the legal size was six inches (being the size that brown trout there suposedly grew to before first spawning).

It was a five mile walk home with my prize in my school bag and after that it was all I thought about. I still love fishing on my own but I begrudgingly admit to myself that I prefer to fish in company now not least of all because there is a safety element to being out on a boat on a mountain lake or on some remote alpine creek.

Was that a defining moment? Of course! It was where fifty years of catching trout on fly began. That day is etched so clearly in my mind, and ultimately has come to define me. There will be nothing in my life I will be better known for amongst family, friends (and more broadly) than my passion for fisheries and flyfishing. And this little trip down memory lane was triggered by a chatty day on Lake Eucumbene with Peter.

A July day on Lake Eucumbene

I’ve written a lot about Lake Eucumbene over the years. In my first magazine article, I wrote about a frosty winter morning, staying in a cabin at Anglers Reach, and, while on foot, catching a huge brown trout by hanging a Woolly Bugger off a deep water edge. An epiphany, never to be forgotten.

This weekday in late July, I was again throwing Woolly Buggers into deep water edges with great success, this time from the boat. It was my second trip with Peter. Peter is a good boat companion. He hangs off every word of advice, casts well to the spots suggested (most of the time) and lands his fish (when many people fall at this final hurdle). We chat a lot, but there are also long periods of silent concentration, especially when fishing areas I’ve designated as hot spots. 

It was on the back of this trip that I thought it might be timely to answer some of the questions I often get asked, in the hope of encouraging a few more people to have a crack at the winter lakes. So here are my top answers, in no particular order.

1. Best Flies

In winter, big flies are everything; well almost everything. Browns are hungry after returning from the river and mostly feeding on yabbies, so they’re used to big food and highly opportunistic. Black or brown Woolly Buggers with some sparkle in the tail – and I prefer a tungsten bead for the dipping action. But Rod Allen (Crazy Trout Hunterz) fishes an unweighted Bugger with great success because he likes the hover pause on the retrieve. Nothing smaller than a size 10 hook. And if you’re fishing to trout you’ve polaroided off the bank – as Rod often does – a mid-water hovering fly can be crucial.

I usually fish two flies, but one is fine and I don’t think it increases your catch rate having two. If you do tie on a second fly, be careful with an extra bead-head. Two big beads can destabilise your cast. Incidentally, I’ve been fishing a Blob lately because I’ve heard a lot of people like it. But I’ve yet to see it work its magic!

Late on my winter afternoon with Peter, a few very small midge started to pop off, and we saw some rises. Notwithstanding my big fly mantra, the fishing on Buggers slowed dramatically and a move to a floating line and a size 16 or 18 pupa or pheasant tail nymph could have been a good thing to try. 

2. Chatting on the boat

Chatting on the boat will reduce your catch rate by half if not more. When I fish with Rod, we have literally caught nothing all day because we talk so much. This is but one example of the price to pay for doing anything that takes your concentration away from that bit of line between the rod top and the water: the so-called bridge. Your eyes see the take, before your hands feel it. If the first thing you know is the rod being nearly jerked out of your hand, you’ll be missing half your fish.

3. Winter clothing

To quote Billy Connolly quoting his ghillie: “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes”. Two of everything, and three on top, with a raincoat if it’s wet. On your head, a balaclava and cap, topped with a beanie. If you do this, you won’t be cold. And wear good low light sunnies.

4. Falling lake: good or bad?

I don’t like a fast-falling lake, especially after a period when it’s been rising or stable. The fish spook and sulk. However, in winter, the lake usually falls constantly and steadily, which is often a good thing. It displaces yabbies from their holes, so they become easy pickings for both the browns and larger rainbows. On the downside, the banks are very muddy, and the soaks and creek crossings have a foot of mud to wade through, so take care.

5. Dirty or clean water?

If the wind is blowing along a muddy bank, you might find fish cruising the edge of the dirty water. I’ve often caught in the muddy water. Trout are better hunters than we might think, even when it seems (to us) that visibility is hopeless. On the other hand, clear water on a sunny day with a steep bank is excellent for polaroiding.

6. Boat or bank?

I love the boat, but it is far from essential. Half my winter days are from the bank. I look at the forecast wind direction and try to pick a bank with the wind pushing along it, or slightly onshore, up to 50 degrees. Full onshore winds can be just a pain, but I will fish if it’s the prevailing nor-easter on the lake, because the fish know.

I don’t always know why I choose boat or bank, or what I do when I’m on the boat or bank. Some of it is a forgotten memory (instinct?), some thought-through experience, some taught advice, some commonsense. But if you think it’s worth a go, give it a go.

7. What line: Sinking, sink tip, or floating?

I don’t think it matters that much. If you want to fish in 5 or 6 metres of water, then use a sinking line. If you’re casting at a bank from the boat, or on a shallow bank from the shore, then a floater or sink tip is a good choice. If you fish any form of sinking line, you have to keep it moving to a greater or lesser degree. With a floater however, you can slow it all down and still get a bead-head fly to fish two or three metres underwater.

8. Leader v tippet.

I use a  Frog Hair 2X tapered leader, with 3 feet of 2X fluorocarbon tippet to the first fly and 3 feet of 3X fluorocarbon tippet to the point if I’m fishing two flies. This can be readily managed from boat or bank. If you’re casting into the wind, I’d suggest a 2X leader, 3 feet of 2X tippet, and a single fly.

9. The retrieve.

Mix it up – strip-strip, roly-poly, figure-eight. There is no doubt that at this time of the year, trout love a static fly over a fast retrieve. Slow retrieve or static fishing a Bugger under an indicator can be a bit boring, but it can be very productive. But I will rip back the odd cast, use high animation retrieves with plenty of rod wiggling and mends to let the fly sink, and they all work. On the latest trip with Peter, I unhooked a fish and let the fly hang of the back of the boat while a photo was taken, and another rainbow just grabbed it. Then to break the (loose) rule, another smashed it twice on a fast retrieve before hooking up on the third. Peter had multiple follows right to the boat using a very slow retrieve on his intermediate line.

10. What else?

• We were checked by DPI Fisheries. Good to see Sean from Tumut out on the water in winter checking catch and licences.
• If there are a lot pelicans and cormorants around, I’d go somewhere else. They spook the fish.

• In winter, always wear a lifejacket, and tell someone where you’re going and when you will be back – and remember to let them know when you are back.